This Week (今週)

From September 25th to October 1st, authors, readers, publishers, and constitutional right advocates will celebrate books that have been banned for whatever reasons. This year, Banned Books Week is looking at diversity. Although diversity isn’t a new word, some may imagine diversity as a person of color. Diversity, however, includes people who are of different appearance, ethnicity, religion, gender and gender identity, age, physical and mental ability, sexual orientation, military status, and economic status.

“The ultimate sacrifice” is a common trope in comics and anime–and we always fall for it. Why do supreme sacrifices always work? When I think about the supreme sacrifice, I think about death. Life is the one thing that people, animals, and living organisms all grip with tremendous force. Some manga illustrate this point very well.

In Fullmetal Alchemist, youngsters Edward and Alphonse try to resurrect their dead mother through alchemy, a type of scientific sorcery where people can shape matter by trading something with equal materialistic value. In the Elric brothers’ case, Edward’s arm and leg and Alphonse’s soul are sacrificed for only a dabble into the forbidden arts, forcing them to search for the Philosopher’s Stone, a powerful catalyst that may help them get their original bodies back. On their journeys, they face the State Military of Amestris because of their youth and illegal activities, a vengeful Ishbalan war survivor, and humanistic creatures called homunculi. For Edward and Alphonse, they taste death in every adventure, but their true strength comes in wanting to survive. Besides their bodies, the brothers give up their childhood, spare time, livelihood, and sanity to get closer to the Philosopher’s Stone.

What makes this series a great example of the supreme sacrifice is that Edward and Alfonso give up so much without actually dying. It takes great courage to live rather than die. Death, at least to me, is so easy compared to living and facing the demons head-on. When a person dies, there is nothing to overcome, nothing left to experience, nothing to do but be dead. They’ve lost their chances to physically change the world. Only the living can push through and keep going. Sure, the memories of the dead also live, but the dead don’t suffer anymore. If anything, memories are something that haunts the living just as the Elric brothers’ remember their time with their mother. To me, the ultimate sacrifice is to survive and face whatever demons–or angels–that come down the line.

The one person in Fullmetal Alchemist who tops the Elric Brothers in the most supreme sacrifice is Izumi Curtis, the teacher to the brothers. After trying to resurrect her stillborn child, some of her organs are taken, causing her to cough up blood and endure incredible pain on a daily basis. For a person to lose their baby, see into the hellish gates of forbidden alchemy, and live with part of your organs is just amazing. Between the grief and the physical pain, Izumi could had said, “I want to die,” but she continued helping the Elrics through the series. In real life, I think few individuals cope with the grief of a child’s death, let alone, losing their bodies and saving the world from Seven Deadly Sins.

Let’s see you do all this alchemy stuff with half your organs. Image credit

What do you think is the supreme sacrifice other than death? What other titles do you think have the best supreme sacrifice?

When anime fans look at Japan, they look at the anime and manga and the weirdness that seems to pour out of its red sun. They are part of Japan, but just as The Simpsons, American football, and twerking don’t represent the Western world, strange otaku culture doesn’t encompass all of Japanese society. The only way to truly understand Japanese culture is to live in Japan—and from there, things like Hajime Isayama’s Attack on Titan become commentaries on today’s world.

Most fans would say that Attack on Titan, a horror manga where Titans eat humans, is a story about survival, the key component to all horror manga. If survival was removed, the walls that protect human civilization from Titans would be the barrier dividing traditional Japan from foreign cultures.

Since the end of sakoku, or national isolation (literally “chained country”), and the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945, Japan has been chasing the rest of the world in technological advances and cultural inclusion. However advanced Japanese society seems to foreigners with its cars and ASIMO robots, Japan hasn’t broken away from its traditions. Miso soup and zen gardens are still part of Japanese homes and schools, and tattoos continue to be scary marks of the Japanese mafia. One of the most-iterated proverbs in Japan, “The nail that sticks up gets hammered down”, is ingrained in Japan’s soul—so much so creators have made a living from selling uniqueness.

Just as the first wall in Attack on Titan is easily compromised by a single Titan in the first volume, foreigners and visitors will see through Japan’s image after living in Japan for a few months. Though Japan has English education, revised immigration laws, and communication with foreigners, those things just say, “We’re not totally oblivious to the rest of the world.” The reality is Japan is uncomfortable with diversity: Japanese students can’t use the impractical English they’ve memorized; biracial Japanese people can’t hold dual citizenship after the age of 22; and Japanese people are not likely to meet foreigners in their entire lifetimes.

The other two walls in Attack on Titan aren’t easily fallible. After living in Japan for a few years, foreigners see Japan’s true colors, and they’re redder than people think. In Japan, being different or individualistic isn’t a good thing. People who are selfish, have outgoing personalities, or don’t look like other Japanese people are “less Japanese”. Students are punished more for long hair, shaven eyebrows, or ear piercings than their classroom behavior and grades. Handicap or disabled citizens have “bad blood”. Students who have mental or learning disabilities are placed in regular classes because everyone must have an “equal” opportunity to education. Speaking English is also viewed as a big difference, and many times, foreign language teachers of Japan won’t speak English with others because they’ll be labeled “strange”. These kinds of images aren’t seen by foreigners even when they’re placed in a Japanese workplace. It takes time and English-speaking friends to find the real Japan underneath its otaku underbelly.

But the walls aren’t the only thing that links Attack on Titan to the undazzling sides of Japan. When readers look at the three main characters, Eren, Armin, and Mikasa, they’ll find that they represent the different eras in Japan. Mikasa, the unaffected muscle of the three, doesn’t just represent Japanese women who still endure harsh sexism even till now—she’s the old Japan. In the past, it was good etiquette to never show emotions, as depicted in historical hand scroll paintings such as Ban Dainagon Ekotoba (12th Century) by Tokiwa Mitsunaga. Mikasa’s perseverance is a characteristic of the bushido code which has changed its samurai heritage into lengthy work and cram school hours.

Mikasa is accompanied by physically weak yet genius Armin who looks outside of the walls, and in essence, outside of Japan to improve their chances of survival. Unlike Mikasa, Armin shows his emotions, but he doesn’t go as far as Eren in expressing his thoughts. Armin represents Japan’s post-World War II attitude towards rebuilding the nation, as seen with Japan’s quick advances in technology. Japan’s advances in the public domain, such as artificial intelligence in cars via robots and Shinya Yamanaka’s stem cell research, owe their successes to outside influences (German A.I. specialists and British researchers).

The last and most pivotal character, Eren, is the opposite of Mikasa. He has a bold personality with a grandiose idea of destroying Titans. He represents the new Japanese person, one who is trying to break out of the sameness that Japan wants all its constituents to mimic. Because of his differences, Eren is punished the most in Attack on Titan. Though both him and Mikasa have lost their families, Eren watched a Titan eat his mother. During his military training, Eren faced multiple setbacks from his friends, peers, superiors, and later, his own government. But Eren drives the story and the reader because he exists—the outgoing, selfish, passionate, inquisitive, diverse Japanese person is alive at this very moment. Japanese people are questioning the government and using any means to get attention on important issues in Eren-like fashion. A salaryman in Tokyo lit himself on fire to protest the Japanese Constitution changes in June this year. Okinawan people marched against the Ospreys and the American military’s acquisition of Henoko. And most citizens are vocalizing their disapproval of Prime Minister Shinzo Abe, especially with Abenomics’s unsuccessful inflation plan to improve the economy. Of course, these kinds of Japanese persons are very proud of their nation. They also juggle their questions with their patriotism as does Eren throughout the entire manga series.

While most readers look at Attack on Titan as a simple horror manga or another odd manga from an artist’s mind, people who live in Japan will uncover the hidden side of Japan buried within its metaphoric walls and diverse characters.

Bullying is something that happens everywhere: school, work, the playground, even at home. We as humans are culprits and victims to this circular action. We are bullied by our parents, relatives, so-called friends, and strangers, and to feel better about ourselves, we also bully our kids, siblings, schoolmates, and minorities. At the heart of bullies–and really, all of us–is a scared little person. We’re all capable of lashing out in trying to appease that little heart dweller, but until we recognize that we are being bullied and we get out of that situation, we’ll always be afraid.

However horrible bullying is, it’s no reason to feel down about yourself nor turn to violence. From an otaku perspective–which is, in essence, being a nerd and geek–having a bully only means that somebody else has a shorter self-esteem than you. Normally picking on others is a way of making themselves feel superior. Sometimes, it’s just a form of control that they don’t have at home or in their past.

In Hiroshi Takahashi’s Worst manga, the main character, Hana, is really strong, but he’s also very nice. He rooms with four other freshmen boys in a boarding house run by a yakuza man. Although the personality types in the house are known for bullying and fighting, it’s Hana who diffuses the tension and breaks barriers with his optimism. He strays from being a typical delinquent by keeping a clear line between good and bad which to some characters (and people, too) is strange to find in his age.

Similar to Hana, I’d have to say it’s not the end of the world if somebody does bully you. It’s never really about you and it’s never your fault. They probably feel threatened by you because they’re jealous–you seem to be in control of your life or you have some attribute they wish they had. Sometimes its just that you seem weak because you’re a child or you’re a girl or you’re a smaller person, so bullies jab at you. It’s not your fault.

As simple as this sounds, it’s not easy to just walk away and leave it alone, but it’s the best route. Getting into a fight with a bully doesn’t help anyone or anything, and sometimes, it’s exactly what a bully wants–a license to bring you down.

Just think of it this way in the long run: Geeks and nerds rule the world. Bill Gates (nerd), Oprah Winfrey, Donald Trump– do you think they’re stupid? They certainly aren’t, but I bet in high school, people thought they looked like nobodies.

If you need someone to talk to about this “This Week” topic or you would like to submit a “This Week” topic, please contact me!